


And so, she must walk

by grassangel



Category: The Sandman
Genre: Altered Mental States, Community: 31_days, Gen, Insanity, Mutilation, Revenge, Supernatural - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-02
Updated: 2009-07-02
Packaged: 2017-10-15 10:57:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/160146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grassangel/pseuds/grassangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The ladies can't give her wings and so, Lyta must walk. A short piece on Lyta's journey, and her madness, in The Kindly Ones.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And so, she must walk

**Author's Note:**

> No spoilers for the ending, but general spoilers for that volume.  
> For 31_days: March 24, 2009 - a vein of stars calling out my name

Hurt and betrayal burns deep in her chest and Lyta wants to hurt him, hurt the one who took her baby away. She wants her Daniel back, the only thing that is still hers, the only thing that Dream cannot take wholly from her.

The kind ladies have told her how she can get him back, how she may be able to cradle him in her arms once again and have filled her with the power she needs to do so.

His realm is a long way away though and the ladies can't give her wings and so, Lyta must walk.

She continues walking even as her feet grow bloodied and raw from the rocks strewn on the path in front of her – razor sharp diamonds, tears floating away into the night like pretty constellations in the sky. But Lyta doesn't stop to tend to her feet for, like walking on fire, if she stays in one place her feet will burn off and she would have to crawl on hands and knees and that would hurt more.

There are faces in the shadows and snakes to help her on her way; she ignores them, hurt and want glowing brightly inside her, the dull throb keeping in time with her footsteps, the slow progress towards the Dreaming.

Her heart, or perhaps it's her feet, raced when she heard a startling cry ring out through the night, a violent scream that DEMANDED that she saw to its needs, no matter how far away she was.  
By the time dawn came and the owl gone to sleep, Lyta had ran until her feet were oozing blisters and cried enough tears to wash away their ichor.

Sometimes some thing, some one, some what will stray into her path, leading her off it, if only for a while. Lyta always returns, walking to where her baby and to where her avenge waits.


End file.
